“What are you sure of?’
‘I hate the Aenir. I’d like to kill them all.’
‘Would you like to be tall and strong and to attack one of their villages, riding a black stallion?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you kill everyone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you chase a young boy, and tell him to run so that you could plunge a lance into his back?’
‘NO!’ he shouted. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’
‘I’m glad of that. No more would any clansman. If you stay among us, Gaelen, you will get to fight the Aenir. But by then I will have shown you how. This is your first lesson, lad, put aside your hate. It clouds the mind.’
‘Nothing will stop me hating the Aenir. They are vile killers. There is no good in them.”
‘I’ll not argue with you, for you have seen their atrocities. What I will say is this: A fighter needs to think clearly, swiftly. His actions are always measured. Controlled rage is good, for it makes us stronger, but hatred swamps the emotions – it is like a runaway horse, fast but running aimlessly. But enough of this. Let’s walk-awhile.’
As they strolled through the woods Caswallon talked of the Farlain, and of Maeg.
‘Why did you go to another clan for a wife?’ asked Gaelen, as they halted by a rippling stream. ‘Oracle told me about it. He said it would show what kind of man you are. But I didn’t understand why you did it.’
‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ said the older man, leaning in close and whispering. ‘I’ve no idea myself. I fell in love with the woman the very first moment she stepped from her tent into the line of my sight. She pierced me like an arrow, and my legs felt weak and my heart flew like an eagle.’
‘She cast a spell on you?’ whispered Gaelen, eyes widening.
‘She did indeed.’
‘Is she a witch?’
‘All women are witches, Gaelen, for all are capable of such a spell if the time is right.’
They’ll not bewitch me,’ said the boy.
‘Indeed, they won’t,’ Caswallon agreed. ‘For you’ve a strong mind and a stout heart. I could tell that as soon as I saw you.’
‘Are you mocking me?’
‘Not at all,’ he answered, his face serious. ‘This is not a joking matter.’
‘Good. Now that you know she bewitched you, why do you keep her with you?’
‘Well, I’ve grown to like her. And she’s a good cook, and a fine clothes-maker. She made those clothes you are wearing. A man would be a fool not to keep her. I’m no hand with the needles myself.’
‘That’s true,’ said Gaelen. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Will she try to bewitch me, do you think?’
‘No. She’ll see straight away the strength in you.’
‘Good. Then I’ll stay with you … for a while.’
‘Very well. Place your hand upon your heart and say your name.’
‘Gaelen,’ said the boy.
‘Your full name.’
‘That is my full name.’
‘No. From this moment, until you say otherwise, you are Gaelen of the Farlain, the son of Caswallon. Now say it.’
The boy reddened. ‘Why are you doing this? You already have a son, you said that. You don’t know me. I’m… not good at anything. I don’t know how to be a clansman.’
‘I’ll teach you. Now say it.’
‘Gaelen of the Farlain,’the . .. son of Caswallon.’
‘Now say, “I am a clansman.” ‘
Gaelen licked his lips. ‘I am a clansman.’
‘Gaelen of the Farlain, I welcome you into my house.’
‘Thank you,’ Gaelen answered lamely.
‘Now, I have many things to do today, so I will leave you to explore the mountains. Tomorrow I shall return and we’ll take to the heather for a few days and get to know one another. Then we’ll go home.’ Without another word Caswallon was up and walking off down the slope towards the houses below.
Gaelen watched until he was out of sight, then drew his dagger and held it up before him like a slender mirror. Joy surged in him. He replaced the blade and ran back towards the cave to show Oracle his finery. On the way he stopped at a jutting boulder ten feet high. On impulse he climbed it and looked about him, gazing with new eyes on the mountains rearing in the distance.